100 Themes Challenge
by Seriously Santa
Summary: I'm taking the 100 Themes Challenge! Hurahhh! Prepare for bromance! Also, I can't believe I misspelled "themes".
1. Love 2

**So, here it goes. My failed attempt at the 100 Themes Challenge. Enjoy. (:**

**Also, I own pretty much nothing, so this is a disclaimer...That sounds so awkward. **

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**100 Themes Challenge: Take one**

**Love**

Carlos loved dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. He also loved his helmet, and Swirly, and chocolate milk, and hockey, and his papi, and his mama, and he just loved everything! He took another bite of his pancakes—Mama Knight's specialty, when they're not burnt. He couldn't lie, he loved those, too. It was hard not to love things when you're Carlos. Seeing everything through the eyes of the child, everything has a meaning and a purpose, but you don't know what it is, and you want to find out, and you just can't help loving things instead of just liking them because they need to be loved and not simply liked but loved.

What Carlos loved the most, though, was definitely James. His very being made him want to burst into a spontaneous combustion of pure joy, rainbows, pancakes, helmets, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets—everything. But when James was sad, or sick, or angry, or dejected, Carlos was sad, or sick, or angry, or dejected. The one thing Carlos hated was seeing James as any of the above. Carlos would do anything to make James happy again, no matter what.

So that morning, while Carlos was happily chomping his pancakes, and James came into the kitchen, looking none-too-happy, Carlos dropped his fork, and tackled the taller boy to the ground. He embraced him in a bone-crushing hug, being brash as usual, and demanding to know who hurt him, who he was going to beat up. James pushed him off, as he was suffocating, and told him someone used the rest of his 'Cuda Man hairspray.

Carlos sat on the floor, contemplating, before laughing. He also loved James' ridiculousness.


	2. Drink 78

**Howdy! So, here's take two. It contains Wee!Kendall and Wee!Logan. They're around age eight. I was hoping to do these in order, but when I saw "Drink" I was inspired by an episode of Everybody Hates Chris. So...Here you go!**

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100 Themes Challenge: Take two

Drink (78)

Logan looked wide-eyed at Kendall as he pushed a chair from the table over to the counter, climbed the chair onto said counter, and then opened up the cupboard and proceeded to pull down a cup. It was Kendall's favorite cup; it was plastic, with the Mighty Ducks logo on it, and even though it was old, and had been dropped, and there were some cracks, Kendall still loved it. The blonde jumped down off the counter and stumbled, startling his friend.

"What're you gonna do with it?" Logan asked, a bit scared at the glint in Kendall's eye.

The two boys were currently at the Knight household, waiting for Mrs. Knight to finish up the laundry and make dinner. She had promised them she'd make their favorite tonight, considering they had survived their second week of third grade; fish sticks. The two boys had become bored, and Kendall said he learned a new game from the fifth graders earlier that week when Logan was out with a stomach-ache. Logan was slightly afraid of this "game" Kendall claimed he'd learned, first of all, because he knew the fifth graders never played very nicely, so the game probably wasn't much fun, and second, Kendall was quite mischievous, and even if Logan didn't want to play, the younger boy would convince him to play, anyway.

"It's called 'dare'," Kendall explained, placing the glass in the table. "I dare you to do something," he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the milk, mustard, and eggs. "And you have to do it." Kendall poured the milk into the cup, spilling a good amount onto the table, then squeezed a majority of the mustard bottle, and a little bit of ketchup into the concoction. Leaving the contents on the table, he reached into one of the many drawers for a spoon to stir it with. "I added more mustard because I know you like mustard better than ketchup," Kendall told him whilst stirring. "I tried to make it easier to drink." Kendall stopped stirring, and clanged the spoon against the cup before tossing it into the sink.

Logan looked at the glass, his face paling. The gross orange-color inside the glass taunted him, as he knew that if he didn't drink the substance, Kendall would be disappointed, and that was the last thing Logan wanted to do.

"So, I dare you to drink it." Kendall stated, pushing the cup toward his friend.

Logan gulped, intimidated. Just looking at it made his stomach churn. "Uh, what if I don't drink it?"

Kendall didn't look disappointed, in fact, his face was blank. "Well, if you don't drink it, then I'll call you Chicken for the rest of our lives."

Logan looked from Kendall, then to the cup. He didn't want to lose the respect of his best friend forever, and even though he was terrified of the consequences, he picked up the yucky orange-ish drink, and chugged. He downed the whole thing, earning him a surprised look from Kendall, and a high-five. The brunette smiled at his friend, a milk-ketchup-mustard mustache above his upper lip.


	3. Crazy 23

**This is kind of...Weird. Anyways, I hope you like it, even if it is a bit odd. :D**

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100 Themes Challenge: Take three

Crazy (23)

_All the single ladies, all the single ladies_  
_All the single ladies, all the single ladies_  
_All the single ladies, all the single ladies_  
_All the single ladies_

Mr. Garcia was definitely confused when he walked into his living room one afternoon to fin his son in a black leotard dancing to Beyonce. Definitely not one of his proudest moments, but at least he was dancing with girls. He thought that was a good thing. As soon as the three teenagers noticed him walk into the house, the music was shut off, and the three of them went red in the face, but Carlos was sporting a rather large smile.

"Papi!"Carlos exclaimed, beaming at his father. "What did you think of our dance?"

Mr. Garcia was stuck speechless. He didn't know what to think of what he had just observed. He didn't even know men could gyrate their hips that way. He was a bit flustered. "Uh, it was definitely…Different…Who wants tostada?"

"Ooh! Ooh! Me!" One of the girls, a brunette, said, jumping up and down in excitement. "I love tostada!"

"Me, too!" Carlos said, dashing to the kitchen, followed by said brunette, leaving the blonde and Mr. Garcia standing awkwardly in the living room.

Mr. Garcia shifted from foot to foot, while the blonde girl just stood there, looking at the ground. The older man didn't really know what to say, because he figured she'd follow suit after her friend and his son, but there she stood, looking upset. Mr. Garcia really didn't know anything about teenage girls, which is why he was happy with an attention deficit son who was presumably gay, he didn't mind that one bit. But teenage girls were a whole other story. They were emotional, crazy, and feministic. But mostly emotional and crazy.

He subtly made his way for the kitchen, but the sound of sniffling coming from the teen before him, made him stop, which he knew he'd regret.

"Uh, is something wrong—"

She broke down sobbing. "I'm in love with Kendall, but he loves Logan, but I'm better than Logan—I mean, I have girly parts, for goodness sake! And –"

Mr. Garcia ignored everything after that, as the girl just wouldn't stop talking. He collapsed on the couch, deflated, acting like he was listening, but really wanting to get out of this situation. She followed suit—still talking—flailing her arms about in emphasis. Mr. Garcia's mind began to wander about how much he really wanted that tostada his lovely wife was serving to his son and most likely the more sane of his two female friends. He also wanted to watch the game. It was the Rays and the Red Sox in Tampa, and even though he knew the Rays would win, but still, he was a man, and men liked to do things like watch baseball—and she still wouldn't shut up!

Finally, Mr. Garcia snapped, and threw the remote at her, missing her head by only a couple of inches.

"What the-? Mr. Garcia? What was that?" She yelled.

Mr. Garcia stood up in a rage, and began to yell back at the girl, "Oh, Dios mío! Usted muchacha loca! ¡Fuera de mi casa! Estás molesta y por qué no hablas parar? Nadie se preocupa por sus problemas chico tonto o si Mercedes tiene el vestido de fiesta lo mismo que tú y se ve mejor en ella! ¿Por qué sigues aquí? GO!"

She didn't really know what he just said, but she knew it wasn't very nice. Offended, she grabbed her bag from the reclining chair across the room, then stormed out of the house. Mr. Garcia sighed, pleased that she was finally gone, and turned to walk to the kitchen, to see his son and the other girl standing there.

"Papi, where'd Jo go?" His son asked, concerned, and a bit scared, considering they'd heard the yelling from the other room.

"The crazy blonde girl? She left." He responded, walking into the kitchen, where he saw the tostada waiting for him.

Carlos and Camille looked to one another and shrugged, following the aged Venezuelan into the kitchen.


End file.
